The Insomniac on the Bridge (L'Éveillé du pont de l'Alma)

The Awakened of the Pont de l'Alma

My God. I've slept badly.

My God.

I've slept badly.

What are you looking at?

What are you looking at?

The Seine.

Me too.

You have nice eyes.

My son will have your eyes.

In that case...

In that case?

Hadn't we'd better get married?

It only follows.

I'm happy to hear you say it.

That's surprising.

I think that it's going to be rather shocking.

It's a shame our place isn't like yours.

Kiss me.

No.

We're being watched.

So what?

Married people often do such things.

Sir, do you have a light?

Such horrors.

I seem to have gone and asked you for something that is too easily had.

I was just about to fall asleep and now you've woken me up.

Sorry, but in fact I would like to speak to you.

Not today.

Why?

Too much to do.

When could I see you again?

In seven months.

Here's to our son.

He's here.

You feel him?

No. You couldn't feel him yet.

He doesn't think so.

You won't believe it.

He's moving with exactly the same rhythm as that man's hands.

I love you.

I've got to fly.

I'll be back at 3 p.m.

Good day, Monsieur.

Good Day.

Monsieur. I've been observing you for a long time.

You'd better stop doing that immediately.

I don't like conversing with strangers. I prefer solitude.

If you're looking for somebody whether that would be a homosexual, a barbarian,

or a philosopher, you're wasting your time with me.

Monsieur, I'm not exactly just a stranger.

I've read you with the same ecstasy that gets on my nerves with a certain novel.

- But... - But what?

You're promised to meet me seven months ago.

So?

I'm a boxer, Monsieur:

I want to place myself at your service.

To do what?

To help support to you in the insupportable.

You mean...

Need a light?

It's true that I don't sleep much.

Not much?

Barely sleep at all...

even less than myself?

- You, too? - Mmhmm.

And how.

You like taking long walks at night.

I adore that.

Nothing better.

After all,

the most beautiful whores only come out at night.

Oh? You like women?

Mmmm... that's my downfall.

I've had bad luck with women.

They'll play along a little and then, everything's over.

Women only like to make love and little else.

They're animals, they can't help it.

You've gone out.

Speaking of making babies,

look down there at that woman.

I have had the privllege of seeing that woman laugh. It was marvelous.

Don't talk of morals, don't talk of humanity...

With symptoms like those, that woman's pregnant.

Pregnant? Despicable!

Hold on. You're crazy. Stop!

- Where are you going? - Sleep!

Excuse me but do you intend to rape here?

I feel an obligation to intervene.

That's it.

Again.

What are you waiting for?

- Me -- - Come here.

Never, I told you.

Oh yes.

She's sweet.

She doesn't seem outraged.

She's having sweet dreams.

My God. What are we doing?

I don't recognize myself.

I'm starting to get excited.

It was bound to happen.

But it's unthinkable.... me, rape a pregnant woman?

It's odd what I'm about to do.

I'll make a sort of double for myself.

Enough! Start raping and get off the double!

Just a second!

Hurry up, pine nut!

It's not easy. There all kinds of little manipulations that are too obvious.

Are you done?

I never believed I'd again be capable of intimacy with anyone never mind a woman.

Well?

That foreigner, she sure got a good whiff of me.

Let's go have a coffee.

So you want to talk?

He'll talk, no matter when or to whom.

People let themselves to talk very quickly. I think it's a shame.

So here we are in some kind of struggle.

Good. That's given you some heart.

Do you like theory?

I adore it.

Having searched far and wide for the causes of your transformations.

What would those be?

I believe I've found

the point of departure for all of these theories:

I propose that getting lit causes sleep disturbances.

That's an old one.

You're a bad apple, you.

So I've been told.

A rascal.

Well...

Yes, in general.

Look here.

This hand, for example.

This hand...

Who is making this hand move if it isn't me?

Me?

Yeah?

Take it.

Yes, in fact or yes, maybe.

But maybe not.

Anyway, not me.

So according to you, we're driven by hidden forces.

While we share the bodily mass of a kind,

each mass is an independent system.

And within the interior of this system,

everything is mixed up.

I'm ready to share my system with you.

So it is very possible that my hand should compose part of your body.

If only...

in the left knee.

Are you going to leave?

Right on schedule.

It could also be that both belong to someone else.

Who else?

Go ahead and leave. They are making all of our decisions.

That's frightening.

Yes.

And this theory is a joke to you?

Forced to reexamine the dimensions of this theory, I'm plunged into the depths

of function theory.

And that is what you've uncovered

about the motives of our respective insomnias?

It's something like that.

Other stakes, they'll find out.

I believe in your bodily system theory

more than that mysticism of my daydreams.

Not if you are not better.

You persist in remember.

I'll need to wash my hair.

I was only showing off certain reservations.

What is it?

Have I said something to upset you?

Hold on.

- You're pale. - Indeed.

It's begun: the merger.

Yes. It has begun.

It's odd...

but everyone...

everyone is taking orders fromf a fetus.

Yes...

just a fetus.

Don't you need to cry about your son?

I don't need to any more.

He is being much nicer now.

He's almost not crying at all.

Much better.

Sleepy?

No.

I'm closing my eyes....

that's all.

See you soon.

- You again? - That's right.

How onerous, these duties.

Your conversation enchants me.

But I do mean completely.

Can I ask you a question?

Personal?

Not really.

Go ahead.